The first drops fall one hour before sunset. In the beginning, just a few. Then a hard downpour floods the deck. Every few seconds, electrical discharges cut deep irregular lines across the dark-crimson sky. Thunders follow immediately after the flashes, loud like cannon shots. […]
The White Tide
It risesin spirals of grasstwice a day,usuallyat the same hours. The hoofed bellsfrom the mountainsshatter the night’s edge,sending the milk flowinto circular songs. When you look atthe rows of labeled boxes,remember the starswrapped in prayers,the dreamswrapped in moonlight,the cows,and the tide.
The Ape Inside Me
Autumn is drippingfrom the old treewhile I shakethe thick branches. Every dayI slidealong the trunkuntil my backpackis heavy with apples. When I eat them,the ape inside mesmilessatisfied. Somedaywe’re going to touchthe stars. Its sparkling eyespierce the future,planning new tripson paths of bark,higher and higher.
In the Footsteps of the Cyclopes
The sky is paleat sunset.The stone moonhaunts, mute,above the hills. I’m seeking,without hesitation,among white sands and shells,cold tracks,old tracks of cyclopes. Silent thoughtsbury themselvesin my hair,bare,strippedof dreams.
PerhapsI’m leaning too much into the wind,as if it were a carpetmeant to carry me over meadows. Perhaps you’re right,and it’s only my imaginationthat flickered that day at Ryōan-ji**,so long ago,when I thought a spirit from the gardenjoined me on the journeyto the other […]
The Supreme Master stepped close to the platform’s edge and took a peek down. The Sun was setting, and a pale halo of light flickered now underwater, marking the artifact’s location.“Come here, kids,” Anh said, waving towards the teenagers. “I’m going to show you […]
BUTTERFLY’S DREAM 4
A path is made by those walking on it. Chuang Tzu (c. 369 — c. 286 BC) Part 1:Triangulum with Three Flashes of Lightning The thoughts of Alberto Shimada, the second lieutenant of Excelsior “If you could be someone else, who would you like […]
Words –printed,or filling a screen. Theyare onlybellsswayinghesitantlyin long callsthat shakethe clouds. Betterlift your gazeaway from this textand let your wingsspread highuntil they touch the sky. (c) Marian C. Ghilea, 2021-2022artwork by Marian C. Ghilea
Autumn Haiku 2
first rain of autumn –I feel like a butterfly,lost inside my dreams (from the book “Tides of Amber“, 2019) © Marian C. Ghilea, 2019artwork by Marian C. Ghilea, 2022
In memoriam Margareta Ursachi (1945 – 2022)
Dear Mother,I know you would have wanted me to go on after you are no more. I will do my best to continue my journey on Earth with my head held high until it is my turn to rest. I will write to you […]
“Let’s watch them from over there,” the master said, stepping aside.The three teenagers followed him to a spot near the edge about ten meters away. From their new vantage point, they began observing the five men.The rope with the large hook of steel continued […]
Dear citizen,we dwellon opposite shoreswashed bymismatched horizons. What you wantfrom the futureis going to burn downmy world. Yet,I’m a citizen,like you.I dream of lionsand sometimesspend long hourscounting stars. Maybeyou could comebefore nightfall.You can stand by meon this neutral ground. We shall waittogetherfor the starswhile […]
Night in Karlsruhe
Footsteps echoing,turning around,meltingunder stars. History,memories,heartbeats marking the secondsflowing into the night. Above, the same skyhidden by street lights,is guarding, unperturbed,the city washed bythe deep, invisibleriver of time. poem & photo: Marian C. Ghilea
BUTTERFLY’S DREAM 3
Prologue I cannot prevent myself from wondering about the new generations that shall sprout into this world millennia from now. What shall they think of us? Shall they see our accomplishments as simple and primitive? Shall they portray us as uneducated barbarians? Shall our […]